


Freely Given

by ReapersAngel



Series: Who You Really Are [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - America?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence?, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates?, And I can't leave out, And this new roo- flatmate of hers, Eurus likes biscuits and apple juice, Eurus point of view, Librarian!Eurus, Okay so I know Eurus wasn't good in the show, Other, Post-Story: The Final Problem, Post-The Final Problem, Reader-Insert, Really the reader is more like a character I've never named, Roommates, Self-Insert, So you get this whole series, Sort-of, Though how it's canon divergence after canon I don't know, Violins, You can take this as slash or platonic, but i love her, genderneutral reader, oh god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReapersAngel/pseuds/ReapersAngel
Summary: Eurus hummed to herself as she stepped out of the airplane, surveying her surroundings.So this is what America is like.
Relationships: Eurus Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Eurus Holmes & John Watson, Eurus Holmes & Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Eurus Holmes & Reader, Eurus Holmes & Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Eurus Holmes/Reader
Series: Who You Really Are [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005825
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	1. The Actual Fic

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the beginning of my Eurus/Reader / Eurus & Reader series! I've actually been really procrastinating on posting this, but since we're nearing the completion of a whole 'nother fic I'm writing where they pop in as a cameo, I thought I'd post. Also, this isn't your run-of-the-mill XReader fic. There will be absolutely no first-person interactions, since I'm shite at writing those. I've already written out a lot of the works in this series on paper, and so far, I don't have a definite end. And this is technically all post-series, so I don't know how it's AU or canon-diverged. But enjoy!
> 
> (And because I'm also shite at coming up with titles, please tell me if you have a better one) (And as mentioned in the tags, you can take this as slash or platonic. When I first came up with the idea it was going to be slash, but writing it turned out to be a bit more platonic. So, whatever floats your boat!)

Eurus hummed to herself as she stepped out of the airplane, surveying her surroundings.  _ So this is what America is like. _

Mycroft and Sherlock had both called in favours and pulled a hefty amount of strings. Finally they’d managed to get her tickets to America, after she’d given her verbal, written, and legal word that she wouldn’t ‘reprogram’ anyone. She rolled her eyes. Americans were so gullible, anyways. It wouldn’t take her even more than ten words.

She hadn’t had much to take anyways. Her violin, of course, and other than a passport, identification, and a few credit cards connected to some large bank accounts Mycroft had whipped up and wired for her, she had a few sets of clothes Sherlock and John had taken her shopping for. She liked John, who always had such a practical way of looking at things, and Sherlock had always been her favourite sibling, even if he hadn't remembered her for most of his life. Together they’d cautiously steered her towards some of the better choices, and nothing that reminded her of Sherrinford. She never wanted to go back there. Especially now that she had seen the outside world.

All of it had fit into a carry-on luggage bag Mycroft had provided for her, along with a few books he’d given her and a few words about her new status pertaining her diplomatic immunity.

America had been a nice gesture, Eurus thought as she went through customs. The logical part of her knew it was so they didn’t have her in their hair for a bit, until she was due back. But still. Short leash or not, to see the world you had to start somewhere.

“And what’s a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?”

Ah. Case in point - Americans were gullible and stupid.  _ Goldfish _ , She remembered.  _ Goldfish are what Mycroft and Sherlock call the normals. _

She ignored him, the very cursory glance at him enough to dismiss him as a threat. An annoyance, perhaps, like a buzzing fly, but in no way a real threat.

A text alert came in on her new phone. She checked it - an address, from a restricted number. Mycroft, then. She laughed to herself about that - she was technically restricted, wasn’t she.

The man kept tailing her through the airport. Sherlock and John had taught her what to do in dangerous situations and some basic self-defense techniques. It was most likely to make sure she didn’t die or get into any trouble or the like in America, but Eurus chose to selectively interpret it as affection.

She ducked in and out of shops with overpriced items -  _ Never buy anything from airports _ , John had instructed,  _ Unless you bloody have to, because everything is always ridiculously expensive, even the shoddy tea  _ \- and weaved through the masses of people. The man kept following her, to the point where Eurus considered feigning the bathroom and escaping to the air vents. She put it into the categories of  _ Mycroft Would Tut/Disapprove _ ,  _ Sherlock Would Absolutely Do _ , and the very sensible  _ John Would Advise Against _ , and discarded it. Being locked up for decades - she immediately deleted that part of the thought - hadn’t given her a particularly good sense of reasonable judgement. So she had devised a system. A very useful system, in fact.

Instead she exited the airport, watching as cars drove up and as people climbed into them. She felt a bit frustrated at the lack of taxis that were apparently oh-so-many in London in ridiculous abundance, and knew there was no way Mycroft had gotten one of his signature black cars to America. She had even met his assistant a few times. Everyone knew her name wasn’t Anthea, but Eurus thought it suited her. They had gotten along fine the few times they were together.

She thought about calling something called ‘Uber’ on her phone, which John had explained was sort of like a taxi service. She, however, decided she was not desperate enough for now, and could always resort to yelling “Rape!” or “Fire!” as John had taught her.

Just before the man reached out to grasp her arm, someone else linked arms with Eurus. She did an immediate assessment -  _ not a threat, wants to help for some reason  _ \- and relaxed. She shifted, still not used to wearing shoes or having her beloved violin locked and sequestered away in a case.

“Sorry babe,” A voice said, “Traffic was hell.” In a quiet whisper, they - because no one was ever an ‘it’, Eurus thought that no one deserved to ever be an ‘it’ - “He’s been following you for a while, figured I should step in.”

Eurus wondered how long this stranger had been watching her, and made her decision based off her always-sensible John category -  _ play along _ . “It was no hardship, sweetheart,” She said.

“Huh,” They murmured, “British.” Then, normally, “Let’s get you home. I’m sure the jet jag must be kicking in.”

_ Jet lag _ . Eurus ran over her mental book of definitions.  _ Ah, right _ , She thought,  _ Sleep disorder. Fatigue and the like after flying. Sleep according to the sun. _ She followed as she was led to the stranger’s car, the man dissipating back into the crowds behind them.  _ Still no threat _ , she assessed, then made the very Sherlock decision to climb in.

At the very least, it seemed Eurus had solved the problem of her method of transportation.

* * *

“Sorry I had to abduct you like that,” The stranger apologized. They had brought Eurus to a coffee shop, which had immediately been assessed for threats (there weren’t). Now, they were sitting at a table for two. “Just didn’t seem like he’d leave you alone.”

“You have my thanks,” Eurus said.

The stranger laughed. “You British, always so formal.” Eurus felt the corner of her mouth twitch. “Anything you want from here?”

Eurus thought about the offer.  _ Best not to take tea in America, _ John had advised,  _ Never know how it’ll turn out. Only take tea in an emergency or if you know it’s good. Otherwise, stick to biscuits and pastries and the like. _

Then Sherlock had interrupted with  _ Make sure they aren’t drugged or poisoned. _

John again:  _ Sherlock! _

“Just biscuits,” Eurus said aloud, “The ones with the little chocolate chips, please.”

The stranger stared at her for a moment, then laughed again. “We call biscuits ‘cookies’ here,” They said, grinning and standing up, “Stake out the table while I’m gone, ‘kay?”

Eurus had a brief momentary vision of Sherlock and John staking out a table with binoculars and tea thermoses before she nodded. The stranger smiled before heading to the counter. Eurus watched them as they talked to the person at the counter. Perhaps Americans weren’t so gullible and stupid after all.

Or maybe it was just this one. She didn’t know.

The stranger came back with a little white waxed paper bag that they handed to Eurus. When she peered inside of it, she found a bunch of little chocolate chip biscuits. Sherlock had made her try many biscuits, and had her point out the ones she particularly liked. He had muttered to himself all the while, and when Eurus had stolen a look at his notes ( _ Eurus Biscuit Experiment _ ) he had marked  _ Dot Biscuits (John’s Favourite)  _ and  _ Boring _ . When she’d consulted John, he clarified that Sherlock meant chocolate chip biscuits and shortbread biscuits, respectively. “Thank you,” She said, nibbling one. They weren’t as good as the ones Sherlock and John’s Mrs. Hudson had made, but they were edible.

“So,” The stranger said, leaning forward in their chair, “You’re British, right? Your accent isn’t as strong as some I’ve heard.”

Eurus shrugged. “Haven’t spent a lot of time around people,” She said through her biscuit.

“Reclusive, then,” The stranger noted. Eurus tilted her head in acquiescence. “Got any family?”

“Two brothers,” She said, “One has a friend that’s practically family.”

It hit Eurus now that it was a very Sherlock decision to spill knowledge -  _ Be wary of strangers _ , John had said - but it was also very John to be friendly. A contradiction decision, she decided, filing it away.

“Hmm,” The stranger said, “I suppose you have no place to go in America then.”

_ Perhaps not a goldfish _ , Eurus thought. She very carefully did not say anything about the address Mycroft had sent her.

“I have an apartment,” The stranger said casually, “That’s what we call flats in America,” They added, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come see?”

“I don’t suppose I shan’t,” Eurus said, smiling around her biscuit.

* * *

It was a nice flat, Eurus thought. Even if the only flat she had ever seen was Sherlock and John’s on Baker Street. Anything was nice compared to her room at Sherrinford.

“Not the best place here, but not the worst either. Sorry about the mess,” The stranger said, tidying up something on the coffee table. Eurus didn’t think it looked messy compared to Sherlock and John’s flat, but, then again, Sherlock was Sherlock.

“It’s all right,” She said. She felt a bit odd, standing while the stranger flitted around anxiously. “Really,” She added politely.  _ Be polite _ , John had drilled into her.

The stranger smiled nervously. “Oh, you don’t have to stay by the door. Shoes off, shoes on, whatever you’re most comfortable with.” The stranger had taken off their shoes, and Eurus followed suit with a quiet exhale of relief. Shoes were not something she liked, no matter what. Now what she wanted most was to free her violin from its prison confinement and bring the bow to strings. She knew she would miss playing duets with Sherlock.

“You play the violin, right?” The stranger said. It was sort of a redundant question in Eurus’ opinion - obviously she had a violin, so she must've played the violin. They sat down on a couch and gestured for her to do the same on the copy opposite. She still had her little waxed paper bag of biscuits, which crinkled as she sat down. Her violin she settled in her lap. “I assume you’re good if you’ve brought it all the way here.”

_ Perhaps the observing type _ , Eurus thought. Sherlock had said that goldfish were the ones who “ _ see _ , Eurus, they see but do not  _ observe _ ”.  _ Not a goldfish. _ “I am,” She said.

The stranger hummed. “Don’t have a job then, since you just arrived.” Eurus shook her head. “British, reclusive, homeless, and unemployed with a violin,” They mused. They smiled. “Don’t suppose you’d consider rooming with me? I’ve got a spare room, if you like. Never decided what to do with it.”

Eurus assessed. She could always leave and go to the address Mycroft had sent her. But- what had John said?  _ When I first met Sherlock, it was such a whirlwind. It all went over my head, but at the same time, I understood everything. He always says I’ve a type - addicted to danger. And I suppose he’s right - don’t tell him I said that - but that’s the thing, Eurus. You have to take risks, because if you don’t you’ll never experience anything. Some bad, yes, but also a lot of good. I killed a man when I met Sherlock, and to this day I still don’t regret it. I’m not saying you should leap first without thinking - god knows you Holmeses always have something in your heads - but you should look at a danger and ask yourself, ‘Do I want to do that?’ And if the answer’s yes, then by all means, do it. _

And that was what Eurus wanted - not just to see the world, but experience and learn it for herself. Staying safe of going back to - god forbid - grey, bleak Sherrinford wouldn’t do anything to accomplish that.

_ Do I want to do this?  _

Eurus smiled. “Yes,” She said.

* * *

A week later, Eurus had found a job at a small library. In the meantime before that, she and her new flatmate had gone shopping. She’d learned more the the details of the practical things Sherlock had flown over but John had patiently taught her -  _ Sales are good, but don’t go all crazy  _ and  _ Don’t buy anything too expensive, unless you know you can indulge  _ and  _ Always make sure you have money put away, don’t spend it all _ and  _ Don’t get scammed, Eurus, that’s important, and by god, if you’re on the Internet don’t click any suspicious links, and if Sherlock hacks my blog again don’t click anything then either _ \- and things about herself too, like that she found apple juice a very acceptable substitute for tea, or that she liked collared dress shirts and jeans or leggings, with the occasional jacket that reminded her of John or scarf that made her think of Sherlock, or that as soon as she picked up an umbrella she understood why Mycroft liked them so much, or that she liked her hair better straightened. They went and picked out sheets and a bed for her and Eurus got her hair cut to just above her shoulders - and when the person had said it was long enough to donate, and asked if she wanted to, she said yes. She left her violin out of its case, always conscious of it, and whenever she picked it up to play her flatmate always came out of the woodwork to watch unless they were out, and she finally understood why, when she had asked Sherlock how he felt about John watching him play, he had said in an offhanded tone that contrasted with his fond expression, “I don’t mind.”

Her new job at the library was nice too. With her mind she learned its workings in mere minutes, though the practical experience took a tad longer. She flew through the nonfiction shelves and all the textbooks, then tackled fiction. She didn’t care for romance, she discovered, but that didn’t surprise her. She nit-picked the logistics of science fiction, and the lives of fictional goldfish in their realistic fiction shelves didn’t interest her. Historical tales and action both were too boring and too much, while fantasy and horror just barely leapt over the edge of digestible. The mysteries were just too  _ easy _ , but Eurus delighted in them if she imagined there were fictional little Sherlocks and Johns running around in them, spewing forth deductions and saying “Brilliant!” as they solved whatever it was.

All in all, her life was well, and she was experiencing America - and even if it was just this little part of it, this little part was hers.

One evening when she was composing on her violin - when she next saw Mycroft and Sherlock and John, she wanted to show them  _ America _ \- her flatmate snorted.

“In hindsight I now see my mistake.”

“Hmm?” Eurus said from her music stand.

“You’re not a ‘babe’ person,” They said seriously, “You’re more of a ‘love’.”

They both dissolved into laughter.

* * *

**[Unknown]: Surprise.**

Eurus looked at the text quizzically as someone knocked on their door. She was partial to ignoring it before she realized who it was.

“Hi,” John said with a little wave when she opened the door, “We were in the neighborhood and, well, thought we’d stop by.”

“All four of you?” She said. There was someone behind her absurdly tall brothers. She stood on her tiptoes to see and achieved nothing. “Did Mycroft finally adopt a friend?”

“Yes, sister mine, all of us,” Sherlock said, breezing past her. She caught him slipping his mobile into his coat pocket. “Though I don’t know why Griffin’s here,” He said lazily, flopping back on one of their couches. “And you, sister mine, you’ve gone native.”

“I suppose I have,” Eurus conceded. After all this time with just her own accent - which was slowly fading away, she’d noticed - it was a bit disconcerting to hear more British. A bit too  _ much _ British, in fact.

Sherlock and Mycroft looked at her, taken aback. “Sister mine,” Mycroft said distastefully, like a bug had flown into his mouth as he tapped his umbrella, “You have gone  _ quite  _ native.”

She laughed. “I’ve changed, brothers mine. America’s mellowed me out.” She gestured and moved out of the doorway. “Do come in.”

John nodded his thanks and stepped inside, moving to stand by Sherlock. Mycroft smoothed the distaste out his face and tilted his head as he passed. The silver-haired guy - bloke, she corrected herself - stuck out his hand.

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade,” He said.

“Sorry,” She said apologetically, “I don’t shake, Detective.”

“That’s all right,” He said, retracting his hand with a sheepish smile, “And call me Greg.”

“Of course,” Eurus said as he entered. She closed the door and turned around. “Don’t cause too much of a fuss, my roo- flatmate’s still asleep.”

“Flatmate?” Everyone except Mycroft echoed.

Eurus rolled her eyes. “He didn’t deem it necessary to tell you, I see.” She moved into the kitchen. “And I suppose you knew it was my off-day too? I have water and apple juice if you want, and good coffee for Greg.”

She heard Greg mutter “Finally. A Holmes gets my name right,” followed by Sherlock’s “Shut up, Graham” and Mycroft’s “Is ‘Detective Inspector’ not enough?” before a door opened.

“Eurus?” Her flatmate said, “Why are there people in our living room?”

“Surprise visit,” She said, handing the mug of coffee to Greg. He murmured his thanks. “I suppose today’s your day off as well? They wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t, they’ll want to interrogate you.”

“Oi, Curly Coat, that’s my spot,” They said grumpily. Then proceeded to whack Sherlock off the couch and flop down in nearly the same position in the middle of Eurus’ gaping family and call them out on it.

“Redhead Umbrella, twenty dollars says you’re the British government,” They said, then turned to John. John had that resigned look in his eyes. They blinked. “And you’re John, right?”

John looked startled, then pleased. “Yes, I am,” He said, “Does Eurus talk about me much?”

They struck up a conversation - most likely about being the companion of a Holmes - and Sherlock whirled toward her with a petulant look on his face. “Eurus, collar your pet!” He whined, “And stop playing favourites with John!”

“Not a goldfish,” They said, then went back to talking with John. Mycroft and Sherlock looked startled, and Greg just looked like the only thing he’d ever wanted was to enjoy his bloody coffee in peace, preferably Holmes-less peace. Actually, he’d muttered that into his mug.

“They’re just not fully awake yet, don’t take it personally,” Eurus said in amusement. Sherlock shot her a  _ how can I  _ not _ take this personally _ look. “Come on,” She said, “Let’s go out and eat. We haven’t had breakfast yet. And yes, Mycroft, I know it’s plebeian. You will eat, or I’ll call Mummy.”

Even in America the threat of Mummy made Sherlock and Mycroft go quiet. Eurus smiled to herself as she herded them out of the apartment.

* * *

They watched Mycroft, Sherlock, John, and Greg drive off. Apparently the address Mycroft had given her all that time ago was a hotel.

“Your family’s a bit much,” They commented.

“Yes,” Eurus agreed. “I suspect some time that John will actually become family. Perhaps Greg, too, if Mycroft ever screws his head on straight.”

“You mean queer,” They joked. Eurus laughed. “But yeah, I can see why you like John.” They offered her their arm. “Shall we?”

They linked arms and headed back to their apartment.


	2. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil' bonus!

_ >>I will not be at the address for a while. (sent) _

* * *

_ >>I will not be at the address at all. (sent) _

**< <[Restricted]: Where? - MH**

**< <[Restricted]: Eurus, where will you be? - MH**

_ >>I have a flatmate now, brother mine. Do not be worried. You may do a background check if it makes you happy. (sent) _

_ >>{file} (sent) _

_ >>There. Name and address. Tell John and Sherlock I send my love. Don’t worry, brother mine, you may partake some as well. (sent) _

_ >>I also know this phone possesses a tracking chip. For your sake, I will not remove it. (sent) _

**Author's Note:**

> And, of course, these are some (heavy emphasis on _some _) notes I had while typing this down:  
>  \- Eurus starts adopting America phrases and switching from British to American (and sometimes between the two)  
> \- She can make her accent come out or fade away at will  
> \- Librarian!Eurus  
> \- Genderneutral and unnamed Reader  
> \- Eurus uses her 'system' - and therefore, Sherlock, John, and Mycroft - as character judges  
> \- ASSESS not DEDUCE  
> \- Line: "And she hadn't reprogrammed anyone." (Throwing this one in there for fun)  
> \- Eurus' phone bill is going to be awfully high. Good thing Mycroft's paying it.  
> \- Line: "'I think we'll get along great/just fine.'" (Also for fun you get this line!)__
> 
> _  
> _Also, watching and reading Good Omens (plus fics), it always cracks me up that whenever Warlock does something Crowley and Aziraphale just automatically blame it on the fact that he's American. Being an American myself just makes it even more hilarious. So this is kinda like my little tribute. (No offense meant) And look me in the eye and say that you don't want Eurus to say sweetheart. Do it._  
> _
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
